I Never Expected It To Be Final
by Narwe Silverflame
Summary: The last fight of DMC3 shouldn't end like this. But it did. Why? K because of one curse.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own DMC.

When I was watching the cutscene/film of Vergil and Dante's last battle in DMC3, I saw that during the last attack Vergil didn't even really raise his sword! I was so angry! He could have won then! And then I started thinking about it. This is the result:

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**I Never Expected It To Be Final  
**by Nevquessewen

They say one must always be true to himself. Because of your inner peace pr something like that. And I must say I agree with it, but don't get me wrong, it's not because of this peace-thing. Well, maybe it's partly because of that, but mainly it's my belief that at least somebody on this god, if not devil, forsaken planet should know what goes on in my confused brain. And who better than myself.

So I admit it. That hit utterly and completely surprised me. That attack should have never hit it's intended target, should have never come close enough to draw a single red line across his pale skin, not even to scratch that blue coat.

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Since I was ten I could perfectly wield my katana and in the next few years most other swords and weapons. I could do with them everything I wanted; make them cut, twirl and dance to the rhythm I myself chose at that moment. In the last ten years, maybe more, it has never happened that a weapon wouldn't obey my commands. Never… Until that thrice-be-damned fight. 

Strange, how the only thing I really rely on, my fighting skills, chose to betray me when I needed them the most. The very sword carrying the power I craved betrayed me. I wanted to raise it to block the incoming attack and then respond with one of my own, but instead of a powerful weapon there was suddenly in my hands a dead weight with which one couldn't even successfully fight a mere Hell Pride. In that moment I didn't know if I was to shout in rage or just laugh at the irony of it all.

At least that was what I thought until I asked myself if I really wanted to finish this thing whit his death. If I really wanted to trade power for family.

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When I said he could do better than that, I meant it. Maybe encouraging your enemy in the middle of a life-or-death battle seems strange, but this wasn't like fighting against a complete stranger. I mean, do you see me giving candies to mindless demons whose only reason to live is to follow orders from somebody, read something, more powerful than them, before chopping off their heads? You don't. 

But Vergil isn't like one of the devils described above and that's why I wanted him to give it his best – if I was really to win and end his life then and there, I wanted it to be like this not because he didn't take me seriously enough but because I really was better.

And he didn't. I don't know why, I only know that he didn't give it his best. 'Cause he didn't block that attack. I'm sure he was able to, yet he didn't.

For quite some time I couldn't understand why. The pieces just didn't fit together. And then a strange thought occurred me. Maybe he, in fact, didn't want to block it.

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It almost seems to me that Dante was always in trouble, since the day we were born. He broke a vase – he was in trouble. He hid Mother's best shoes and forgot where he had hid them – he was in trouble. He stole my katana – he was in _big_ trouble. And then he always had to apologize and admit everything. 

I didn't do such stupid things and if I did, I took care of everything so nobody found out it was me. It wasn't often that I had to explain to others why I did something, what were my reasons behind it, and so it happened that it's hard for me even now to admit myself certain things. That my lust for power controlled me so profoundly, for example, and that it took me so long to realize it, even if I still believe in my reasons for raising Temen-ni-gru.

These ambitions claimed such priority that in my conscious thought they overshadowed everything else – and I wasn't even aware of that. Yet the things important to me remained. Hidden, but they were still there. These things forbade me to move the sword in the last assault and provide a rather different course of battle that certainly wouldn't end with my defeat.

But it had and now I know that it's maybe better this way, otherwise I'd stay buried under my lust for power and mine would become a right decision made from wring reasons.

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How strange are the paths of destiny, taking so many turns, so many roads one can never predict. Wow, I'm really impressed with myself, such a deep thought. Soon I'll be just as good a philosopher as Vergil was. Have to carry on the legacy, you know. But enough of this. 

In the end I think the nature of our last encounter was far simpler than what I originally assumed. It wasn't really about the raising of Temen-ni-gru, about plans of not one, but two dysfunctional families, neither was it about 'brotherly fighting', as Lady once put it. It was a fight between the strength of our beliefs, the basics on which motivation stands. And it was eerily obvious that in the Demon world lust for power was the thing backing up his force. Such a thing couldn't win against my, yes, almost desperation to stop this crazy plan unfolding before my eyes.

Anyway, it's over now. In fact, it's been over for many days and still I don't really get it how the blow that was supposed, yet not expected, to be final really was… final.

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That's it. The longest I've written so far. I really hope you like it, considering it was written entirely during school I certainly enjoyed writting it. (Don't tell my teachers!) ;)  
Was changing of Vergil's and Dante's POV confusing?  
R&R 


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